It shall end
by Tristana
Summary: Set when Altair returns to Masyaf at the end of AC1. Confronting his mentor was terrifying - but the responsabilities coming from it are as well, in their own way. Rating to be safe.


*enters quietly and bows before the reader* Greetings to you all AC (1/2/B). Just a quick note about me being fairly new to Assassin's Creed fandom - I started playing AC1 with my brother something like 3 weeks ago... I thus apologize for any OOCness and weirdness - I haven't finished playing yet so there might be mistakes...

The story is set when Altair returns to Masyaf - and at this point, I didn't even know what was going on...

Warning: Potential OOCness, Altair whining - and Malik having to be the adult... (Well, I wonder if that's really OOC of them.) And possible spelling/grammar mistakes - I do my best but yeah.. Criticisms are welcome - good or bad. And flames will be ignored so save your flame-throwers...

If you have any comments, stuff that irks you feel free to shoot... wait... let go of those knives!

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A last fight, the one with shallow breath and trembling hands. Heart steadied with knowledge – knowing the right from the wrong – what he had to believe. To protect – his renewed purpose. Purposeful – walking straight ahead – not to bow again. He listened and he learned. He learned that he had been fed lies. The task was daunting. Staring into _his_ eyes – betrayal and rancour. Not toward himself he knew – a daunting sight. A lost limb and the loss of kin – painful wounds. They will never heal – but revenge will still be exacted.

"I will not let you down. And if I fail, you will not have to bear the weight of it." A promise he intended to keep. The first he made to anyone but himself in what felt like years.

"Come back alive, Altair." Few words – and still they bore enough strength to make him nod and vow to return. With the piece of Eden and the fate of theirs back into their hands. Not to be used again by those who thought they were above laws.

His weapons felt leaden – determination would hold him together. Eyes burning – all a blur – and his target. Like a beacon in a stormy sea. Staring down at him, thinking he will be won back again. _Your reign shall end now – I ended theirs – I will end yours._ Men and women staggering in his way, attacking – he could not kill them. Bearing wounds, clawing his way higher – out of reach. Up the stone walls imprisoning the cause – the hopes of a nation. He saw him – too late. From beacon to wildfire, storming toward him. Swords are drawn – clashing steal. His eyes were burning from the strain – forcing the memories back. The ancient kindness that once saved him – _used him_. He will not be at his mercy anymore. Feints and attacks came in a rush, not sure how he was moving so fast – his mind lagged behind. Eyes opening – an old, carved face – and a sword. His demise – death striking. Hidden blade found its way – too close and out of reach – sword stumbling behind him.

"You forgot the ways of the Assassins, Al-Mualim."

"And who are you to call me on this, Altair? Yourself made mistakes."

"I paid a high price for those – higher than you would ever know. But your rule is ending now."

"I should beg for my life but I cannot do such a thing."

"Do what you will."

Sharp tug – a last breath, strangely loud – rising from now still lips. The weight is lifted, replaced by another. Murder is not the easy path – and he was not done yet. Rising again, it felt like something was unfurling – like when he first took the Leap of Faith. That terrifying instant when he was suspended in time and space – dangling in the air – flying for an instant on an eagle's wings. And the shock of the landing – unsure of his surroundings. Staring at the walls and ceilings, seeking an answer. A clamour arose and he thought it was the end. They would know it was him – and they would scream for his hide. He looked down – down on the face of the one who had shaped his life – the face of the one who had betrayed his confidence – shattered his faith. A sense of loneliness washed over him – a hand on his shoulder. Spinning around – a familiar face. Darkened and concerned, observing as the hawk.

"Go and get it. If you do not, I will not forgive you." Those words were the truth – the first truth he heard among all those sweet-laced lies. And with that he went, rushing through alleyway in silence, a shadow that moved swiftly across the walls. Here it was – as if waiting. Faintly glowing, a small sun set in an object – polished as glass – light and heavy – enchanting, it was calling him. Tugging at his mind, like the siren's song. And that voice calling him back, ordering him to veil it and carry it outside. It felt like a dream, his steps weightless on the stone ground. A water world – it was shaking – and again, his terror of water took hold of him. It was a choking feeling – someone was calling out his name. Struggling, he opened his eyes, vision cleared as he saw Malik, holding the Piece of Eden in his hand, carefully wrapped in clothe.

"Snap out of it!" Worry – and it made him smile. It had been such a long time that he had forgotten how it was – to have someone being concerned for him. Surging through his chest, the painful scream calling for those three words he knew meant nothing. _I am sorry_ would never be enough to alleviate the agony he had caused him. And from his step backward, Malik seemed to have realized it.

"I cannot hate you forever. You did what none of us could have done in unveiling who Al-Mualim was. We all were too blind, too obedient. So let's say that your stubborness and disregard for orders were a blessing."

"A blessing?" A bitter smirk, mischievous eyes.

"I said in that case. You are still an insufferable idiot." Malik scoffed and stared at him, as if ready to throw the apple to his head.

"And you, you are too serious, my friend." And he could not help but laugh. It would not shake the sense of wrong that arose upon realizing he killed so many people for nothing. But it was a start and indeed, annoying Malik was the best way to change the subject.

Malik shook his head, as if wondering about his mental health, before looking up. "You are going to become the Master..."

"... I spent my life avoiding rules and you want me to become the one in charge for applying them. You want me to die, don't you?"

"Maybe... it's a way to pay you back for all the headaches you gave me since you started to work again."

He smiled at this and drew back, walking back to the window, staring down on Masyaf. "I will try and see what this Piece of Eden really is... but you will have to help me."

A heavy sigh answered, and the sound of sagging shoulders. And an unspoken word that hung between them as a sign for change. _Hopeless. _"As if I'd baby-sit you!" And with that, Malik spun on his heels and walk back to the library. Muttering about idiot assassins and their stupid ideas. And thinking about his brother, about how Kadar would have wanted to see this. The past would not be changed – future was uncertain. But perhaps there was room for hope still... Maybe...

Soaring – an eagle striving higher – stronger. Another with clipped wings, trying to follow, learning how to fly... away from the water.

"Altair, you have to learn how to swim and you are NOT cutting it!"

Old habits died hard even in new days.

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Thank you for reading. I was sure I'd manage to write something serious but obviously, all those fanarts prevented me from doing my job... Hopefully, you enjoyed your read, at least part of it.


End file.
